


Unspoken Memories

by carmenta



Series: Understandings [1]
Category: Vampire Chronicles - Rice
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-04-01
Updated: 1999-04-01
Packaged: 2017-10-08 02:36:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/71807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carmenta/pseuds/carmenta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Armand and Santino meet by chance and finally talk about their mutual past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unspoken Memories

_Armand_

Venice, the city of my happiest mortal years, the city where I learned to love and to live again. And now I was here, looking down the canal from my room at the hotel, without even knowing why I had come back. The last time I visited the city had been when pursuing Daniel through the whole of Europe, a crazy quest that had kept me alive and had allowed me to make contact with the twentieth century when I was on the verge of giving up. Daniel had given me a hard time coming to this city. How painful it had been to walk along the Piazza San Marco, like the other apprentices and I had done so long ago! How painful to see the gondolas moving slowly through the dark waters, carrying people along the Grand Canal, as they had done it for centuries. I had almost turned away and forgotten about Daniel, so great had been the pain. I had locked myself in my hotel, scanning for Daniel occasionally, but in the main mourning, once again, for my lost past. I was again Amadeo, the mortal child that Marius saved from the Venetian brothel. I was again that naive child, longing for the night when his Master would take him, and they would never be separated again. How faraway had seemed those happy times, how painfully lost now. My heart ached, and it seemed the pain would break me under its weight. But finally, after three nights of self-imposed seclusion I had gone out to hunt, and then I had made a pilgrimage through out the city, saying good-bye to that part of my life. Amadeo had died here, even if my Padrone insists on calling me by that name. And when I made myself known to Daniel, who was staying at the Danieli, I was in complete command of myself again.

So now I was here again, but this time it had been out of an impulse. Not a week had passed since Marius made my children vampires and Lestat awakened, when I began to feel restless again. My balance, so painfully built after all these years, had been broken again. I had been about to start a new life, surrounded by my mortal companions, strengthening myself for a new century of life, when hell had broken loose. And I don't really mean the making of Benji and Sybelle. That had upset me, of course, they shouldn't have been made part of our world. It had been the contact with Marius, to live again in his house, to even share the kill with him. All of it had awakened in me the old love and the old need for my Padrone. And I had run, run as if my life depended on it. I had left Marius' house, I had given my children to his care, and I had left the continent. I could not risk loving Marius again. But coming to Venice was proof enough that I was already engulfed in this hopeless love.

I left the hotel, I needed to hunt and soothe my nerves. I walked, crossing small bridges, dimly lit alleyways, crowded piazzas. This was the modern Venice, and yet it was so much like the Venice of my times. I shivered. This was not working at all, I had left Marius' house trying to forget him, and I here was walking again the same paths where my Padrone had taught me the first lessons of immortal life.

But someone was near. I became aware of a heartbeat, a powerful immortal heart that was beating also in this lost night. Whoever it was, he was letting me know that he was here, though his mind was completely veiled. I turned around and there he was, dressed in black, as always. Santino.

"I would never have expected to find you here, Amadeo."

I started. His voice was caressing, but the use of my old name was too much for me to bear in the sea of memories that was already surrounding me.

"I'm not Amadeo anymore," I said simply, masking my emotions. "My name is Armand now."

***

_Santino_

Armand. Here. Of all cities on the world, he had to come to Venice. Had to bring back memories I had been trying to forget for centuries; my personal nemesis, who would remind me of the sins of the past for eternity, would never let me rest. When everybody had thought him dead, I had cursed the fact that we had ever met, for his attempt to seek God in facing the sun was the final result of the life he had led. And for that I was responsible more than anyone else. The news that he had survived, that he was back from a journey nobody could possibly return, had been a welcomed reason for me to get away from the convent. There was no-one caring if I left or stayed, overjoyed as they were that their angel had returned, blessed them again with his mere presence. I couldn't bear the company of the others anymore then, those worried figures gathering in New Orleans, watching over Lestat who had once again lived through one of his foolish adventures. Deep inside I admired him for what he must have experienced, but whenever I saw him lying on the floor of the chapel, it frightened me to think of what had happened, that it had rendered one so powerful into a motionless figure resting on cold marble. The very night Lestat woke again I had left the monastery, the city, the continent. Life would be as it had been before, and there was no place for me anywhere near the others. I would sink back into oblivion again, vanish from the sight of those who could perhaps be called my family. But there was no use in seeking the familiar loneliness if Armand crossed my path, bringing back all I had tried to leave behind.

"Well, if you prefer this name, then I shall call you by it, _Armand_," I replied, placing particular emphasis on the last word. He was speaking the Italian of centuries past, something I had not expected, considering that he had lived in Paris and New Orleans for so long. But who was I to complain, French had never been a language I liked to use. It was so impersonal, flowery without expressing any feelings at all. Pleasant and cold as snow at the same time, a mask that covered the true meanings of the words, that could invert them completely. Like the young face I was looking at right now. I wondered if anybody had ever been haunted by a Fury as beautiful as mine.

"Will you stay?" I asked, knowing that if his answer was positive, or not definitely negative, I would leave as soon as possible. Solitude could be found somewhere else too, there was no need in tormenting us both with our presences. Apparently Armand was thinking the same, he hesitated a moment too long before answering, wariness in his voice.

"Maybe, I haven't decided yet." Such a soft voice, expressing so much emotion. At least he hadn't lost this during the centuries; he sounded still the same.

_It depends on what I will do, doesn't it? Let me make it easy for you, let me leave right now. There is nothing special about this city that could hold me here._ Even though these were only thoughts, not open to anybody, I knew very well that I was lying, trying to deceive myself. What I wanted was to flee the company of this being; he unsettled me in a way that was more frightening than anything else I'd ever experienced. I couldn't really name the feeling, it was just uneasiness in the very meaning of the word.

Silence between us, it would be solid enough to grasp it if I had reached out to touch it. We just stared, neither of us wanting to turn away first. Power struggles even now, after all the time that had passed. Well aware that there was no point in this, and nevertheless continuing to gaze at the other face, not even blinking. Not moving. Just waiting.

***

_Armand_

Pain. All I could feel was pain beyond endurance as I stood in front of this demon of my past, seizing him, wondering what he'd do next. What was Santino doing here in Venice? I had thought him still in New Orleans. I had seen him with my Master, taking care of all the remnants of my attempt at death, and of the vampires that followed my zealot quest. And yet, I still didn't understand why Santino should be there. Why was always Santino helping my Master? Why should Marius accept his company in these important issues? Another proof that my Master cared little for me or my feelings. And that hurt, really hurt. And it was hurting me now.

But these were thoughts and feelings that should stay deeply locked into my soul, so that nobody could turn me down again, so that nobody could listen to me, and then dispatch me. I had begged for understanding and company once, and I had been rejected. And that had been the last time. But now... I started when I realized I was still in front of Santino. I looked at him suspiciously, wondering if he had heard my thoughts at all. He was regarding me calmly, no flicker of emotion on his features. And his eyes, always his dark eyes that seemed to call me and to swallow me when I dared to look into them.

Enough of this. I had caught a glimpse of his thoughts. _Let me make it easy for you, let me leave right now._ The faintest glimmer of thought, and the words were not meant for me to hear, though he was indeed talking to me. So he'd leave here just because he had met me? I couldn't fathom the reasons. Santino, the great coven master, the cold, controlled being who never felt regret of anything he did. Was he uncomfortable with our common past?

I shook my head imperceptibly, and he noticed. He always notices whatever weakness his enemy... or victim shows. That's how he managed to control me. But it was past, and now we were still staring at each other in silence, as two lonely predators who needed to decide whether it's worthwhile to defend his hunting territory or not. I tired of the game. I had come here to heal, and the mere sight of Santino was already draining me from my strength. But before leaving, I had to acknowledge I had heard his thoughts.

"You don't need to leave the city, Santino," I said softly, "not in account of me being here. But if you want it so..."

A flicker of anger in the beautiful black eyes, which he quickly masked with a vicious smile. So I had managed to surprise the great Santino, to reach him somehow? I allowed my lips to curve in a sly smile. I locked my thoughts and turned around to go.

"Why are you here, Armand?" His voice stopped me on my tracks. I turned around slowly to face him. He was not smiling anymore.

***

_Santino_

Don't move. Don't breathe. Don't do anything. How hard it was to watch Armand, to look at him and see not Marius' child that he had always been to me, but the individual, the person. Grown up finally after centuries of childlike treatment, he seemed younger than ever. Maybe my memories of him were changed, idealized to some extent.

I could see him thinking, considering what to say, what to do. He was frightened of me, and disturbed; understandable, I thought. I wasn't sure of what to do now, the only thing I knew was that he mustn't see my uncertainty. Never show weakness, be it physical or emotional. Stay calm, no matter what happens. Old doctrines, repeated endless times; nevertheless there lay still sense in them. Had there been a time when they weren't accurate? It was easy to keep a distance, separate oneself from others, a safe way not to get into uncomfortable situations. But it also caused pain, the feeling of being alone; yet shouldn't I be used to this? The others had avoided me as I had avoided them, solitude being my only companion for long spaces of time.

It was startling that Armand had been able to read my thoughts; but then again why should I care about it? There was no difference if he knew that I would leave. Somehow I wondered what he would do now, how he would react after being aware of the fact that I felt as uncomfortable in his presence as he did in mine. A really perfect base for a relationship, we could get along rather well as long as there lay one or two continents between us.

His voice told me that I didn't need to leave, that his stay here wouldn't affect mine at all. Soft voice, so beautiful, so gentle. So deceiving. The brown eyes told a different story, of course. They said that only one of us could stay here, and that there was no possibility of shared territory, of a truce. All of us were lonely creatures, it lies in our nature; these laws weren't broken easily, and certainly not if none of us really wanted to be in the presence of the other. The question was if he cared to insist on staying here, for I had no intention to do so. The world was large enough for two beings not to cross each other's paths.

For a moment I wondered why he was here at all; did the city still mean something to him? I knew only a little of his mortal life, that he had lived here for some years. Marius had told me, his both mortal teacher and immortal father, when we had taken care to erase all traces that there had ever been a heap of ashes on the steps of a cathedral. Poor Marius, how he had mourned for his lost child, trying to make sure that we all were safe from discovery even though this meant destroying the remnants of his beloved. At first I had thought it was a comforting thought for him to know that the ashes were shattered, but then again did he believe that this set the spirit free? To see his face again after Armand had returned was wonderful, never before had I seen such love, such happiness. Strange, I had assumed they would stay together for at least some time, but there Armand was now, standing in front of me in a city half around the world from New Orleans, where Marius was with the others. What had happened to separate them again after only a few days? Armand was turning away from me now, would be gone from my life again in a matter of seconds. Before I could think better of it, I asked him why he was here.

He stopped immediately, turned to face me again. I froze, not wanting to show any emotion at all, waiting for him to make the next move, or decide to abandon the thought of talking with me.

"Why would you want to know?" he replied, his voice controlled as always when I had heard him talk. Emotionless, smooth. It made me regret my words; I hadn't wanted to ask the question, since it only prolonged a situation I wanted to escape as soon as possible.

"Because you are the last person I would have expected to meet here." An answer as neutral as possible, leaving me the hope that he would tire of this game.

***

_Armand_

Leave. Do not linger here, don't talk to Santino, stop exchanging meaningless words when it is fairly obvious both of us want no less than to be in another place. But yet I cannot leave still. Not until I know if he is going to stay or not.

I closed my eyes, in an effort to regain complete control of my thoughts. My mind was already in turmoil, but my external appearance I managed to keep the same. Calm, unconcerned, wary. Santino's behavior, Santino's lessons. I almost laughed at the irony of it. This vampire who had ripped me from my Master's loving arms, had also granted me the gift of a special training, the training of a coven master.

His mind was tightly locked now. Not a chance that I could snoop again into his thoughts. And yet he didn't seem in a hurry to leave or to let me go. And I wanted to go, needed to go before the memory of our time together returned in full. I didn't want to think of that! And yet, I was in Venice, and I was feeling pain, and I wouldn't break down in front of Santino. Not in front of him.

"I'm not as predictable as you seem to believe, Santino." There. Now he would speak, and maybe give me a clue about his plans, so I would be free to leave. I'll be free to decide whether I want to continue this pilgrimage to my past or not. As Lestat would say: It seemed a good idea at the moment. But I wasn't counting on having one of my many nemesis to aid me with my trip to the past.

He was still looking at me. Damn him! That face brings so many painful memories to me. And yet he is good to look at. He is beautiful. A perfect devil, or so Lestat would say.

"Is Marius still in New Orleans?"

Such a casual question. But the true meaning was: Is Marius still with you? Why did you leave New Orleans? I felt a wave of anger washing over me, threatening to take control. But I couldn't let this to happen, or I'd lash out at him, and he'd be satisfied. He would have defeated me once again.

A subtle change on his expression. Had he noticed my sudden unease? Leave, Armand. Leave now! But yet I knew I would stay.

"Si. He's still there."

***

_Santino_

It was hard to hide my surprise when Armand answered. I had expected him to turn away, to ignore the question and leave. So Marius was still in the monastery with Lestat? Strange, I would have never thought that he would ever leave his beloved Amadeo alone again after his return to life. But apparently the parting had already taken place, maybe Marius had decided that Lestat needed his help more than his own fledgling. Not unlikely, he had chosen the Brat over Armand once already, so why should he not repeat his actions. Understandable that Armand had left him in that case; he must have been thinking that Marius didn't care about him anymore. Still I could find no reason for their separation to take place so soon.

"Will Marius come here as well?" I asked, careful not to show any emotion. If he planned to follow his child, I would leave this very night, for they would certainly stay here, and all silence and solitude would be gone.

Armand shook his head slowly, and for a moment I thought I saw sadness on his face, but it was hidden so quickly behind the mask of indifference that it might as well have been the reflection of the streetlight on the pale skin. Centuries ago I would have been proud of him for being able to seem so utterly remote, but now the situation had changed, and it began to annoy me that I had no idea at all what he was thinking.

"So you will return to New Orleans?" There. A little flinch, barely visible, but it had been there. Perhaps he would talk now, the question seemed to have touched some spot he wanted to hide. But Armand simply stared at me, maybe considering what to do now, if I was worth a reply. God, how easy it was to get lost looking at that face.

He did not move at all, what did he think of? If he should respond to my inquiry? If he should leave? If he should reach out and hit me? I did not want to know. The only thing I wished for was to be somewhere else, to escape this awkward situation. But when had I ever got what I wanted?

Now he averted his eyes, turned away. It was more than surprising that he would leave, I had been sure that he would never give in. Without really thinking I reached out and caught his arm. I felt him shrink back from my touch, and when he looked at me, the formerly calm face was furious.

***

_Armand_

There. I should have known he would do it again, that he would bring me pain. He had almost lost control when I answered his question, he had let me see he was surprised. But then he had wanted to know more. The great inquisitor. Santino must have Spanish blood. And he kept on asking questions. And I had struggled to mask my pain, but I was sure he had noticed, he always does. I had to leave, end of the game. I was not in the best shape to keep on playing these games.

But why was Santino asking me questions? Why did he care to know? He had no real reason, I was no manageable fledgling to be induced into a coven, and Santino didn't have a coven anymore. I fought the urge to answer something harsh and turned around to leave. And then was that I felt his hand on my arm.

"Don't touch me!" I almost screamed. I could feel my whole control breaking into pieces, the wall I had so painfully kept posed between us was crumbling and I was not fast enough to prevent it. I turned to look at him, and for a second I hesitated. But the next second I realized he was not going to let me go, and I shoved him away, hurling him against a wall. He was on his feet at once, righting himself before the few mortals passing by could notice. I could see a trail of blood rolling down his face, but he paid no attention to it. I almost smiled. He was furious!

Santino approached me again, and I believed that he would strike at me. But suddenly he smiled, only his eyes betraying his anger. And I was angry at myself. I had failed. I had let him see my own anger, and with this I had shown him weakness.

I couldn't restrain myself. I had to erase that smile from his face. I looked at him, this time concentrating all my power and cutting through his shields. I could see Santino wince in pain. Good. Let him feel pain, let him feel the same pain I was feeling now. He wanted to know what I was thinking of? Well, now he would know. But I would know too. I would know why he was here. I would know why Marius trusted him so. I didn't care what he'd see of my own pain. I just wanted to erase that smile from his face. And I was succeeding. He was not smiling anymore.

I could feel myself trembling, blood sweat already breaking off on my forehead. Santino was fighting me, of course. His dark eyes were fixed on me, his expression dark. He was trying to shut me off, but I was stronger than him, at least strong enough to have him on his knees.

***

_Santino_

I couldn't believe it, I simply couldn't believe that Armand would really attack me. But the pulsing pain in my temple, the blood I felt flowing from the wound were proof enough to confirm me of the reality of his actions. I was angry, at him because he had struck me, and with myself because I hadn't been careful enough to prevent it, or at least to see it coming. Don't show it, I thought; he mustn't see that he has angered me, that I hurt. Smile, even if it causes more pain.

Armand seemed furious, for a moment I thought he would try to lash out at me again, but he simply continued to stare at me, not blinking at all. And then I realized, knew what he was going to do. Hurriedly I slammed all shields in place, closed my mind as well as possible, but he was already breaking through my defenses mercilessly, impossible to fend off. For a few moments I managed to push him out again, fought back as hard as I could, but without a real result. He just waited until I tired, then attacked again, shattering my last shields.

If he realized at all that he was causing me pain I don't know, if he did he probably didn't care about it. I must have fallen at some time, I felt my hands touch the ground, hard and cold, a constant point in the spinning world around me. Looking up, I saw his face, concentration and determination reflected in his expression. He wanted to get something, and he would, no matter what the cost. Unable to stop his mental assaults, feeling dazed, I tried to at least control what he saw, keep him on the surface, away from the memories and thoughts that I had tried to forget, but without any effect.

_Armand...please_, I sent in a desperate attempt to make him stop. _It hurts...this is rape..._ Thinking clearly was becoming more and more difficult as he ripped through my mind, calling up random images of the past. The years in Rome, the gathering at Sonoma, the centuries I had spent wandering, even the my mortal life, hazy and dreamlike, were mixed in a maelstrom of memories. And he still continued; what on earth did he want to know?

I was in New Orleans again with the others, the night Lestat had awakened, the night I had left them, disappearing as always. Experiencing the feeling of not being cared for, as if I was one of the marble angels in the hallways. The dark, silent angels, with their gray faces and gray wings. I had looked at the crude work the artist had done, the rough surfaces, not smoothed properly, while the others were talking with excitement that Lestat had finally returned. They had gone to join him and Marius, giving me the chance to leave unnoticed, to slip out of their lives again. It had somehow been a relief to be alone again; I had not felt very welcome, though nobody had said anything unfriendly or hostile.

The image was gone suddenly, apparently it hadn't been what Armand wanted to see. He was forcing his way to the most personal memories now, causing even more pain than before. Fighting back was useless; sometime I just gave up and let him have whatever he wanted.

His own mind was nearly unshielded, he was only maintaining his basic defenses while concentrating on shattering mine. Without consciously willing myself to do it, I read his thoughts that were so freely displayed, escaping the turmoil of memories he was calling up. And what I saw were images I would have never expected, making me at least partly understand his seemingly strange behavior.

***

_Armand_

He was fighting me, he was trying to fend me off, but it was useless. Once I entered his mind, he never stood a chance. His mind was now like an open book to me. And I saw more than I wanted to see. His years in Rome, his years traveling alone, even the moment he decided to abandon his Coven. I was aware at some level that he was talking to me. I could see his lips moving as he struggled to right himself, but I couldn't hear his words. The roaring in my ears had turned so loud that every other sound had drowned in it. I had broken all his shields. I had never tried before and it surprised me faintly that I could really do it.

And even in his present subdued state he was beautiful. I couldn't help myself but to admire the way his black curly hair fell over his eyes, those eyes that always disturbed me. What was really inside Santino's soul? I had to know. I took a deep breath and made the final assault. His personal memories. I was trembling all over with the effort, even in pain he kept fighting me, until he finally gave up. And there was all I wanted to know, the reasons he had to spare my life, the reasons he had to send me out of the Coven with Alessandra, the reasons he had to help my Master afterwards. I was shocked. I had never expected Santino to care about anyone, or anything. I let him go.

I slumped back and fell on my knees, breathing hard, exhausted with the effort. I was aware he had been peering into my thoughts too, and now I sensed him intruding in my mind more freely, gaining power as I weakened. He was in my head, seeing what I didn't want him to see, learning what I didn't want him to know. And I couldn't make the slightlest move to prevent it. The last thing I saw before drowning again in the sea of my own nightmare were his eyes, cold and emotionless, and then I was completely in his hands.

I was again in New Orleans, coming into Marius' house, looking at Benji and Sybelle, vampires already. In shock I saw my boy dancing, wildly excited, around the parlor, while Sybelle played the piano with her new vampiric skill. I saw Pandora and Marius seating there as well, turning to look at me as I rushed to confront my maker. I felt again the rage, and the unbearable pain when I realized what my Master had done. And I struck at Marius, demanding to know why he had made vampires of my children, why he had betrayed me so.

I was trembling violently as Santino unfolded those painful memories. But I knew he wouldn't stop, he would see it all, mercilessly, the same I had acted with him. I didn't care anymore. I knew already what I had wanted to know, and I was having enough problems trying to grasp it. Understanding is always what eludes me, especially when it comes to others' feelings. After all I have never had love for long.

And suddenly the mental assault stopped and I could feel strong arms around me, holding me tentatively, a powerful heartbeat in my ears. Making a great effort I opened my eyes, and his face was the first image I saw. Santino. I tried to back away, I tried to break loose from his arms, but he held me in check, reminding me of his own strength.

"Let's stop these senseless games, Amadeo," he said, lapsing again into my Italian name. And then he helped me to my feet and let me go, standing warily in front of me, his black eyes piercing my soul.

***

_Santino_

I waited for him to react, to give me an indication what he was going to do now. My head hurt, I felt extremely dizzy and tried to focus on that youthful face that stared at me, those eyes that seemed to speak to me, that told what they had witnessed in the centuries that had passed by.

What I had seen in Armand's thoughts disturbed me more than I wanted to admit to myself. Hard to believe that Marius had broken the rules after helping to create them. To me he had always seemed one too wise to make mistakes as obvious as this, but then again it was easy to see why he had broken the promise he had given, that he would not harm the mortals his child cared so much for. Not that I approved of what he had done; we all had agreed not to make fledglings anymore, it was a question of safety since the young were a constant risk of discovery. What surprised me was that Armand hadn't planned to give them the Dark Gift, even though he had loved them. I would have understood if he hadn't wanted to work the Dark Trick himself again, but he had apparently hoped to watch them live a life as normal as possible. For a moment I wondered if he would have thought the same if they had grown older and finally died, but now there lay no use in this question. Well, Marius, I hope you knew what you were doing.

The silence between us was oppressing, we both waited for the other to move, to speak. Childish games again, would we ever tire of them? One of us had to make the first move, and I didn't want to be this one. But even less I wanted to stand here in silence any longer.

"What made you do this?" I asked, carefully watching him for a reaction that he took note of my words. His face stayed motionless, if there was any movement of his body at all it was too small or too fast for my eyes. I was not sure if I expected an answer at all; I had only wanted to end this horrible silence that was scaring me. Now he looked at me, let his gaze wander over my face, his expression unreadable. What was he thinking? Impossible to guess.

For a moment I thought of repeating my question, maybe he hadn't heard it the first time, was too absorbed in his own thoughts that the world around him didn't exist. Perhaps it would be better to leave, to let him try to find his peace again that had been destroyed. All I wanted now was sleep, I had not felt so exhausted for years. I looked at him again, this beautiful creature that haunted my memories, then turned away to leave.

***

_Armand_

I was looking at Santino as through a hazy fog, he was standing in front of me and I had the eerie feeling that he was not here at all, that his presence was only a trick my mind was playing on me. I was exhausted. I shook my head imperceptibly, and forced myself to look at him, to verify the reality of him. Yes, he was here, and we had battled and I had raped his mind... and he'd done the same with me.

He was talking to me... again. And the same as before I couldn't understand what he was saying. But this time it was no roaring in my ears that prevented me from understanding his words, it was just an increasing feeling of detachment that always came to me when I couldn't bear anymore with something. Hide, withdraw into yourself, and once there think of all you have seen, think of it over and over until you understand.

And yet this demon of my past was still looking at me, and I was sure that even if I closed my eyes he wouldn't dissolve in a red mist. I almost laughed at my own thoughts, my mind was drifting. Unforgivable in the face of an enemy. But I wasn't sure Santino was my enemy anymore. I slammed, once again, my shields in place. Had he noticed I had left my mind open for a second? No, he seemed to be waiting for something. But then he turned away to leave.

I couldn't bear it suddenly... to let him go like this. To lose this opportunity to understand, to know him better. We had argued of philosophy, of religion. We had even played chess in the Night Island. But I knew so little about him. And yet this wasn't entirely true now. I had been inside his mind. I had seen.

"Santino..." my throat felt raw, and I swallowed hard as he turned to look at me. Now what? My mind was racing, trying to somehow guess what he had been asking me, but it was useless. I hadn't even listened to the question. I gave up, closing my eyes, and shivering in the night. He would go. I couldn't think of anything to make him stay.

I stood still in the night. I was cold. I should go too, maybe to hunt. The night was not warm. I opened my eyes, and there he was, my old Coven Master, looking at me.

***

_Santino_

I froze when he said my name; what did he want? Would he tell me to go, to stay, what? I had not the slightest idea what he was thinking right now, and didn't want to risk another mental fight just to find out. His face I could not see, was it still showing no expression, blank as it had been before? Only his voice... had there really been a pleading undertone in it when he had just called me? I was not sure, and didn't want to make mistakes in front of him because I had not paid enough attention. To err is human, but was I still human enough for it?

Knowing that it might be the wrongest thing to do, I turned and faced him again. He stared at me, or maybe just stared into space. I was at a complete loss, and strangely, so was he, or at least seemed to be. He closed his eyes; maybe he didn't want to look at me anymore, the darkness I represented for him. Again I thought of leaving, escaping this confrontation that had become worse and worse in its progress; forget what is possible, then suppress the rest, and all this has never happened. Too good to be true, the past always comes back to get you.

Armand opened his eyes again, for a moment he seemed to be disappointed, even shocked that I was still here, that I hadn't disappeared like an image of a dream. He shivered, perhaps he felt as cold, as burnt out, as I did. I thought of telling him that I wanted to hunt, but it would seem a poor excuse for leaving, for fleeing this awkward situation; and it couldn't be left the way it was now. Something had to be done about this, so why did we remain silent? Why did nobody make the first move? This was an opportunity we must not let pass; perhaps I would never again be given the chance to understand him that presented itself right now. Reading his mind, knowing his thoughts, had been a beginning, but there had to be more!

"What shall we do now?," I asked, more myself than the silent figure I was looking at. "Do you want me to leave? Do you want to go?" Talking was becoming easier, the words helped to fill the emptiness that was between us. "Or shall we both stay and continue these childish power struggles until the sun comes and finally decides who wins? It would be a fitting end for our relationship, what a pity that maybe one of us might not survive it." He gave me a questioning look, at least he reacted this time, didn't remain the marble statue he had been before. I waited, if for an answer or something else, I don't know.

***

_Armand_

Santino was looking at me, the dark pools of his eyes making me dizzy, bringing back the long lost years of my life in Rome... and in Paris. His whole stance radiated power, the hidden power of someone as old as him. But strangely enough, it also radiated weariness. It had certainly been a long night for us both, an it wasn't over still. He was peering at my face, seemingly trying to fathom why I had called to him when he was about to leave. And I didn't have an answer for him. I was afraid to let him see more than he had already seen.

He was talking to me, asking what we should do now. If only I knew! And his last words, they shocked me. What could he possibly mean? Was he referring to my recent escapade into the sun? I had survived, that was true, but it had probably been because I had fallen into that thick snow coat. I didn't want to know what would have happened to me if I had fallen on the street, burnt as I was. Surely I wouldn't be here telling the tale. And what would have happened to Santino if he had tried to do the same? Would he have survived? He was older than me, and certainly strong. My mind was drifting again, while he looked at me, a trace of impatience in his eyes.

"Stay... please." The words were out of my mouth before I could even realize I was actually talking. But it was done, I had voiced what I wanted of him. I wanted Santino to stay, to talk with me, to let me see more of his own reasons for what he did to my Master and to me. Why had he really attacked our house? Why had he spared me? Did he ever believe in all that crap which he had fed me when I was his prisoner? He had hammered again into my soul whatever fears Marius had tried so hard to help me get rid of. He had condemned me to a senseless life, and when he had left, he hadn't even bothered to send a message, nothing. How could he tell Marius he loved me? Why was he always helping my Master? Why?

"WHY?"

I started violently when I realized I had talked out loud. And for the look of Santino's face it was obvious he had read the rest of it from my mind. I had stupidly let my shields down, so exhausted I was. He was looking at me with wide eyes, surely baffled by the onslaught of my most inner thoughts and questions.

I looked at him, gathering the last of my strength for whatever would come now. He knew, he had read my mind as easily as he had done it when he had abducted me from my house in Venice. He could hurt me now, if he wanted so. I was in his hands.

***

_Santino_

Had he really asked me to stay? I was not sure at all, tired and confused as I was; the night had taken its toll. Carefully I touched his mind, I simply had to confirm myself if what I had heard was what he had actually said, and drew back almost immediately. He really wanted to talk, wanted me to remain here, though I had no idea why. But there was no reason to hesitate, I should seize the opportunity that was offered to me, the possibility to talk, to explain, to seek forgiveness and understanding. Armand was here, was ready to listen to me; but I did not know how to begin. So long had I craved for this, and now I couldn't find the words to express my thoughts.

"Why?" he asked, it was clear that he had not meant to speak aloud. Again I read his thoughts, found his mind full of questions, demanding answers that would put me completely at his mercy. He would know everything then, would have the power to forgive or condemn me. But wasn't that what I had wanted? That he should know, and then judge?

Suddenly I realized that he was afraid as well; he feared that I would say something hurtful now that I had seen him this way, that I had been able to read his mind. How foolish it was that we both were scared of each other, that we were unable to let go of this nervousness.

"You ask why?" I began, cursing my insecurity which was making this so difficult. "Why I did what I have done?" I shrugged, noticing that he was listening intensely. "You might as well ask the sun why it burns us. I have no real answer to these questions, my actions seemed logical to me at the time, and not even I understand now why everything happened the way it did. You were attacked because the coven had heard of you, of your existence in the center of mortal society; how could I have possibly prevented the assault without losing my position, or even my life? You have been a Coven Master yourself, you must know this." If he reacted, I didn't notice, for I was concentrating on what I wanted to say.

"I don't regret what I was, only what I did; how can I explain my life, my actions. I can only try to answer your questions as good as possible, nothing more. Believe me, I want this opportunity." Armand was looking at me now, surprise mirrored on his face. I only hoped that he would ask, and listen.

***

_Armand_

_"... how could I have possibly prevented the assault without losing my position, or even my life? You have been a Coven Master yourself, you must know this."_

A coven master. Had it been all about this? Being a coven master? Holding the power in his hands? I couldn't understand it, and yet I knew what he was talking about. I had been a coven master myself, I had needed to secure my power when I first arrived in Paris. But then I had had Alessandra with me, and she had been of invaluable help.

And now Santino was demanding that I question him, saying he wanted this opportunity, that he wanted to talk. A vision of the past came to me, both of us talking in that earthen cell, after I had slain Alfredo. I had been at his mercy then, and I had refused him. What would be the outcome this time?

"Alright," I said, still surprised we were actually doing this, "let's talk. I want to know if you really believed we were Satan's saints. I want to know if you believe it now. What do you hold in your soul, Santino?"

He didn't seem surprised by my question. He had read it in my mind already. But he didn't answer immediately, he seemed to be pondering what to say. I waited, locking my eyes with his. Finally he talked.

"I did believe it at the time," he said. "I don't believe it anymore." He gestured for me to walk with him, and I complied, relieved to be able to move my cold limbs. I knew I would have to hunt soon, but not yet. This was too important for me. "It was complete in itself, the system of thought I devised for the life of the Coven," Santino continued. "And it provided us with the necessary security. Being together meant being safe from prying mortal eyes. We had our place under the sky, under God. You must understand that, you believed in God too."

I nodded. I had believed in God then, I believed in him now. But still... "And so, because you believed in God, and that the vampires had a certain place in the scheme of things, you attacked my Master." I sighed. "He was an heretic, of course, and his mere existence threatened your power."

Santino nodded, his eyes being veritable windows of his thoughts. I almost recoiled, it was frightening to have him in front of me, less guarded that ever.

"And then, you used my own beliefs to break me," I said, trying not to remember too much, trying to erase the image of Riccardo's drained body from my mind. But I had to ask the next question, even though I feared to know what the answer might be. "Why did you spare me, Santino? Why did you take the time to break my will?" I looked down, my lips trembling. "You brought me back into hell."

***

_Santino_

That Armand had wanted to know if I had believed what I had been preaching was not surprising; I had asked myself this question, and it had taken me a long time to admit that I had really had faith in the coven, the rules. Religious belief had come with these, the explanation that God and Satan existed and that we had been created by them seemed logical at this time of what is now called superstition. Serving the Devil had been a justification for our existence; what else could be the reason for things such as us to live? The beliefs had been a great comfort, and it had been painful to finally lose them, to realize that no supreme being cared about us.

When he asked for the reasons why I had spared him, I began to regret this talk. It seemed important to him, for the first time this evening he seemed to really be determined to find something out. Maybe he was afraid of the answer, but he wanted to know. And I had wanted to tell him, hadn't I? Not looking at him, calling myself a coward for not being able to face him this time, I tried to find the right words.

"You were a trophy for us, the heretic's child that could perhaps be converted to our beliefs, our way of life. A success would have been very valuable, so Alessandra and I had agreed to try to teach you our rules, to make you one of us. It was simply a question of power... at the beginning," I finished the sentence hesitantly. Even though I didn't see his face, I could feel Armand was looking at me now.

"So there was more." A statement, not a question; he was expecting more than what I had told him, and would not let go of the subject until he knew. "What? What was it that made me worth the time it took to break me?" His voice trembled just a little, he was fighting to keep in control of himself. I had to tell him, there was no possibility to keep this from him for eternity. Damn, why couldn't I bring myself to utter these few words? Desperately trying to shape a phrase, I finally gave up.

"I... you were my pupil at the beginning, but... after some time I began to... to feel different about you. Pride when you solved a problem, when you understood a principle." Not sure if my words made any sense, I stopped.

"Santino," Armand said, "what are you trying to tell me?" I sighed, talking of emotions was something I hadn't done for a long time, an effect of constantly seeking distance from the others.

"That you... you weren't only my student anymore. You became my child, my son, and I... loved you." I had said it. After a mere five centuries I had managed to admit it.

***

_Armand_

Power. It had been a question of power. I wasn't surprised, I would have done it myself if I had been in Santino's place. I would have done whatever was necessary to keep the power in my hands. It was all I had at the time. But then despair had slowly gained me. And Lestat had come to save me before I really went mad. But there was more, and I had to know it. So I asked, and waited for him to answer.

_"... Pride when you solved a problem, when you understood a principle..."_

I was struggling to keep control of myself. I shoved my hands inside my jacket trying to hide the shaking... What could Santino possibly mean? He had been proud of me? WHY? But I said nothing that could betray my inner turmoil, and it helped Santino was not looking at me. Suddenly he stopped talking. No, don't stop now, Santino. I can't bear it!

I managed to keep my voice level, I urged him to continue, I asked him to clarify.

_"...You became my child, my son, and I... loved you."_

The air went out of my lungs, and I found myself staring, speechless, at this vampire that had been my master and my enemy. We had come to a halt again, and he was looking at me now, his beautiful dark eyes, making me dizzy. Love? Was he talking about love? I shook my head unconsciously, as my breath returned to me in painful gasps. My last shields had come down crumbling violently when I heard Santino's last statement. "Love?"

I swallowed hard when I realized I had spoken out loud. I didn't know what to say. I was not ready to ask another question. I needed time to think... I wanted to turn around and run. But I couldn't allow myself to be a coward right now. Santino had risked a lot when he opened his soul to me. He deserved the same from me.

"Love?" I repeated, my throat painfully dry. "You are telling me that you actually... cared about me? Santino, I never knew... I never could have imagined..." I fell silent. I was really trembling all over now, and I didn't care to hide it from him. What purpose would it serve? Things would never be the same between us. And I was afraid, afraid of looking inside my soul and realize I may love him too.

***

_Santino_

Armand's confusion and surprise frightened me; for a moment I thought he would simply turn away and run, flee this confrontation, this talk. Don't go, I wanted to say, don't leave now. But he didn't disappear in the dark, he stayed, silent, the brown eyes that always seemed a little too big for his face staring at me. I could feel his inner turmoil, his mind was unshielded to me, and he didn't care about it anymore.

I was grateful for the moment of silence; I needed to think, to decide what to do now after all that had happened. My confession had changed something forever, and it had to be seen whether this was good or bad; whether it could be the base for a better understanding or would destroy every chance of mending things between us that had ever been there.

He was saying something, that he hadn't known. I wasn't listening to the concrete words, but understood what he was talking about. He had never thought about it, had never wanted to find out. Well, why should he? I had never shown him that he was more to me than a fledgling who had to be reeducated, there was no reason for him to assume I could have cared about him. But it hurt that he had never asked, that he had never wanted to know until now. A fight had been necessary for this all, a power struggle that had taken us nowhere but had been unavoidable. Armand was trembling now, was he afraid, or did he only feel the chill of the air more than before?

"You never thought me capable of feeling anything while you were in Rome," I said, a bitter smile on my lips. "And then, after both our covens had disappeared, I avoided you, careful not to cross your path again, for I was afraid of what might happen." It felt good to say these thoughts aloud; it made them clear, understandable. "Only six months we have spent together, and still the wounds are there." I sighed. "Will we ever be able to let go of the past?"

Armand still looked at me, but something had changed on his face. Something was different about him now, only I couldn't figure out what exactly it was. He had not moved, was still looking at me, the same expression on the beautiful face. Again I sighed, shaking my head. "What a fool I must seem now in your eyes," I heard my own words as if spoken in a great distance, and suddenly wished I had never come here.

***

_Armand_

"No, not a fool," I said softly, my voice barely a whisper. But I knew he would hear my words, this completely unknown Santino that was standing in front of me. "Just one of us, and at the same time... a different man, the vampire I believed you to be when I first poised my eyes on you." I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. Santino was looking at me, but he seemed tired, weary. And I was feeling the same, spent, drained by all standards. If this conversation were not so important to me, I would have gone to my suite, to sleep a mortal-like sleep. To dream. But I couldn't leave Santino now, I didn't want to. My shaking was subsiding, and I was feeling an all too familiar numbness creeping upon me. An old self defense mechanism that was unfolding itself now that I was exhausted and the emotions threatened to overwhelm me. But I was determined to stay.

"Amadeo... are you all right?"

His question startled me. He was standing closer to me now, his voice showing a tint of worry. I hadn't realized I had bowed my head, raising a hand to my forehead. I looked at him, managing a faint smile.

"Si... I'm fine," I said. "It's only that the night has been long... and intense."

"It has certainly been," he said, still peering at me. "Do you... do you need to hunt?"

"Hunt? No. Not really." I looked at him, trying to shake the numbness away. "I would like to continue this conversation... It seems to me we have been strangers to each other when there's so much we might have in common, so much..." I grew silent suddenly. I was about to make the one mistake that had been the cause of all the pain I had endured in my life! I was letting Santino in, I was starting to believe he might care about me! And then things would develop as always, and I'd be hurt and alone again.

"What is it, Amadeo? What's wrong?"

I looked at him helplessly. I wanted so much to trust him, to tell him about Marius, about my mortal children. Images of my Master, standing in that room with Pandora, while Sybelle played the piano and Benji danced wildly around her, flooded my mind. I had been such a fool! I had believed I would be allowed to have a time with Marius, that I would have his love. But it had been as always. Nobody loves me, nobody ever does.

"I am alright," I said, knowing all too well that Santino wouldn't believe me. My shields were still down, and I was too tired to build them up again.

"No, you are not," he said, taking my arm and urging me to walk. "Come with me to the piazza, and we will talk about what is troubling you."

***

_Santino_

It felt good to move again, to know where I was going this time. Walking without a destination was something I didn't like; it made me feel lost, not connected to reality. Still my hand rested on Armand's arm, and I was surprised that he didn't shake it off, that he didn't flee the touch. Maybe he was too tired, it was obvious that he was exhausted and needed a rest. His movements seemed weary, and he didn't shield his thoughts anymore. I would not have minded had he suggested that we should meet again the next night, but would we both return to continue this if we stopped now? No, better to finish this now, as long as we both were willing to talk.

We reached the Piazza San Marco, and I headed towards one of the iron-wrought benches that had been placed here for the mortals who crowded the place during the daylight hours. Now it was deserted, nobody came here at this time of the night; we would be undisturbed in our talk. Armand sat down, and after a moment of hesitation I settled next to him, careful to keep a little distance. His mind was full of images from what he had seen during the last days in New Orleans. Marius in the salon of his house, beautiful Pandora - how alive she looked now, compared to the last time I had seen her! - standing next to him, both watching the two mortal children Armand had brought in our very midst, and who had now been taken from him. Was this the cause for him to leave Marius that soon? Had he felt that he was being replaced by these two fledglings?

"Amadeo- Armand," I corrected myself. "Do you want to talk about what is troubling you?" He looked at me for a second, then slowly shook his head; he still didn't trust me enough for this, still shut me out and tried to cope with this on his own. But he wanted to talk about it, I could read it in his mind effortlessly; it was just that I was who I was. "I will listen if you want to speak about it."

"How could I not see it?" he whispered, his voice raw, too low for mortals to hear. "How could I think that he might love me?" Marius, what have you done this time? I sighed; why could the Roman not see what he had done to Armand in working the Dark Trick on the children? It was so obvious! I wished Marius would have thought about the consequences; all this would not be happening if he had done so much as considering what effects it could have to do exactly what Armand had asked him not to.

"Armand, he didn't give them the Gift to push you away." I tried to find a way to say this without making him feel guilty for what had happened. "He did it because he loved you, nobody is to blame for this. Marius simply didn't think it would hurt you so." I looked at him, that silent figure next to me, wishing to know what I could say to soothe the pain, and not enforce it.

***

_Armand_

Santino guided me to a bench in the Piazza San Marco. It was so easy to let myself be guided by him and not worry anymore about anything. I didn't have the energy to decide where to go, anyway. And the pain in my heart was turning unbearable. Alone, I would soon be alone, as always. So Santino did care about me, so he regretted some of our mutual past. I could understand that. I could even understand that he might love me. Maybe I loved him too. I didn't know, my heart was just too laden with grief to even consider questioning myself about this. But I didn't feel anymore that I had to be wary around him, not this night when he had bared his soul in front of me.

I let him see my pain without realizing it. But this was a lie, I was lying to myself. I wanted him to see, I needed some measure of human understanding, of the human part we all still have within. I was choking with the pain, I couldn't held it inside me anymore. But when I talked, at last, it came like a whisper, not the outpouring of emotion I had feared it would be. And he understood, at least he tried to soothe my pain.

_"Marius simply didn't think it would hurt you so."_ His words were meant to do good, and I was grateful for it. But he was sadly mistaken, Marius was not the loving father Santino may believe him to be, nor he was the lover I wanted and needed so desperately.

"He knew," I said softly, "he knew it would hurt me. He told me so. But he believed I would finally accept it, that it was for my own good. He turned my children into vampires so I would stay with him for a while. He said he wanted me to rest," I paused, smiling bitterly, "well, maybe I will rest now... He has Pandora, he has my children... he doesn't need me anymore."

I saw Santino's expression changing. Was it alarm I saw on his face? I hadn't meant to talk so much, I wasn't even sure what the meaning of my words was. Rest? Was it my time now? I had come back from death, alive and full of questions. I had come to see my dark brother lying on that cold stone floor. I had drunk from him... I had seen him walking again, recovered from the ordeal with the Devil. I had seen my children turned into vampires against my will. I had seen my Master again, and I had fallen in love with him. But he had already replaced me... if I ever had a place in his heart.

"Stop!" Santino's voice startled me. It was not a command, but a more like a plea. "Don't do this to yourself, ragazzo." He hesitated. "Marius loves you, you can't doubt it."

"I'm his greatest mistake, his greatest crime against our race. Those were his words to Lestat. Did you ever read Lestat's autobiography, Santino? His greatest crime," I laughed, this for some reason distressing Santino. "He doesn't love me."

And suddenly I was crying, sobbing, and Santino's arms were around me. And it felt good to be held by someone, even if I had once called him an enemy.

***

_Santino_

What did Armand mean when he said that his time to rest had come? Did he want to go underground? I could understand that, as far as I knew he had never done it before. Nearly all of us go into the earth at least once in their eternal life, when their problems seem to overwhelm them, when they are weary of being awake. It was a way to flee everything, to wake up after some decades in a completely new world. Was this really what Armand wanted? Or was he thinking of trying to make the final step again? I wasn't sure what I would do in that case, not at all.

How could he think that Marius didn't love him, when it was obvious to everybody who heard him talk of Armand, saw the way he looked at his fledgling. How sad Marius had been when he believed him dead; he had mourned for him, but silently, refusing all attempts of others to console him. And to see the joy in his eyes the moment Armand had entered the chapel, alive and only slightly bronzed was one of the most beautiful things I'd ever witnessed.

Suddenly he began to cry, the youthful pale face stained with crimson tears that traced two lines over his cheeks, shaken by the sobs; and I didn't know what to do but draw him into an embrace.

"Let it go," I whispered, trying to sound as soothing as I could. "Cry until there are no tears left to shed, don't hold them back anymore." I was a little surprised that he accepted my touch without shying back at all; comfort seemed to be more important to him now than anything else. He was clinging to me, his face against my shoulder, crying silently. Gently stroking his hair, untangling the auburn curls, I felt that he was shivering, and drew him a little closer, trying to give him a feeling of protection, if against his problems or the cold I didn't know myself. I remembered the only time I had seen tears in his eyes before, but suppressed the thought; it was not a pleasant memory, and I was afraid he might see it in my mind. He was disturbed enough already; and I was not sure what to do, how to comfort him.

I didn't know how long we had been sitting on that bench, maybe minutes, maybe hours, I had lost track of time. Neither of us said anything, but this time the silence was reassuring, not as awkward and hostile as it had been when we had met. Had this all really taken place in a single night? Armand had stopped to cry, was calm now, didn't stir. Didn't draw back; still his head rested against my chest, his brown eyes, seeming enormous now in his slightly gaunt face, staring into space.

"Thank you," he said silently, his voice raw from crying. I shook my head, smiling at him. How vulnerable he appeared, but not helpless, it was something else I could not name.

"There's nothing to thank me for," I replied, and continued when he remained silent. "Maybe we both needed it." You needed to be held, and I needed to be wanted, I added for myself.

***

_Armand_

I was crying in Santino's arms. If someone had told me I would be in this position I would have dismissed the sole idea immediately. I seldom allow people to see me crying, and if I do cry it is never in front of someone that isn't close to me. Was Santino close to me then? Maybe in a way he was. He had been my Master for half a year, the time I spent in Rome, studying and learning from him. Could he be a friend now? I didn't know. I was still afraid to question myself about it.

And yet he was giving me comfort, he was talking to me softly, stroking my scalp and holding me. And it felt good, and it didn't hurt at all. I stopped crying, finally, but still rested in his arms. I was pass all wariness, I welcomed the comfort he was so freely giving me.

"Thank you," I said. And his answer amazed me. He said he needed to be wanted, the same I needed to be held. I looked at him, unable to mask my surprise. Was he feeling lonely?

"We all feel the loneliness at some time," he said, reading my thoughts. I was not shielding anymore and I didn't mind. This night had been strange enough and I was so tired!

"I can't bear to be alone," I said, looking down. "It may be a flaw of my character... I don't know..."

I felt his hand on my cheek, gently making me look at him. "You are not alone, Armand," he said. "You have many who love you..."

I smiled bitterly, shaking my head.

"No," he insisted, "listen to me. Marius loves you." He hesitated. "I know he has hurt you with his actions, but you have to talk with him. You need to do this... or you will never find peace."

I left his arms, gently withdrawing and sitting upright. I felt cold suddenly, but I had to clear my thoughts and the warmth his touch brought to my heart was too distracting.

"I came here because I couldn't endure living in his house, in Marius' house, anymore... And now, I still don't know if I want to see him. You say he loves me? I don't think so. He feels guilty because he brought me over and abandoned me. I don't want that of him, you see? I need his love!"

Santino stayed silent, looking at me, seemingly studying my face. I didn't try to touch his mind, thought I knew for certain he would not push me away this time. Finally he spoke. "It's up to you to decide, if you will go back to him now or not. But when you feel the time is right, call to him, and talk to him. Only that will close the wounds."

***

_Santino_

I waited for Armand to say something, but he remained silent, apparently pondering my words. I had not the slightest idea what he would do now, if he would return to the company of Marius and his children now or let more time pass until he talked to his maker. It was his decision, and I didn't want to influence him more than I had already done.

"I'm not ready for this yet," Armand said, still looking at me, his eyes reflecting his exhaustion. "Returning to him... to Marius still frightens me too much." I wanted to ask him if he would return to the others at all, but then dismissed the thought. There was nothing more I could say to him to change his mind. All arguments had been used already. He had to choose himself, and do what he thought would be best for him.

"So what will you do now?" I asked, trying to sound not too curious. Armand shrugged, reaching up to brush a few auburn strands out of his face. If there had ever lived a creature that deserved to be called beautiful, it was him.

"I don't know. Maybe I'll stay here for a while, or travel to Paris once again. I haven't been there for a while, and I would like to see the city again." I nodded, smiled at him. So he wanted to visit the places of his past before going to face the future. For a moment I wondered if he would go to Rome too, but then again the Eternal City hardly held any pleasant memories for him.

"And you, Santino? Where will you go?" Never ask a question if you can't answer it yourself.

"Spain maybe, or Greece; I haven't thought about it yet. I will just wander Europe for a while, until I grow tired of being here." Was there a trace of regret in the brown eyes that were fixed on me? I was not sure, but it had seemed to me as if he didn't approve of the fact that our ways would separate now. But there was nothing we could do about it, was there? Armand would return to New Orleans, to Marius, and they would try to mend things between them. And I would drift out of everybody's life again, as it had been my way for so long.

Armand stood, arms wrapped tightly around himself as a protection against the chill of the night air. The tired expression on his face, his whole body language spoke of his weariness. I would not have been very surprised if he had fallen asleep standing here in front of me. But something was agitating him, keeping him awake. He was not shielding anymore, from lack of concentration, I assumed. And what I could read in his mind was something so unexpected, so surprising to me, that I was glad to still be seated on the bench. But I knew that he would never admit it, never say it aloud. If I wanted this, I would have to make the first step. The question remained if I did want it at all, for it meant that a lot of things would alter, old habits that perhaps were hard to lose. Then again, had not this night been one of change? So why stop now; there was no real reason for it; new ways always brought changes with them. I rose too, standing next to Armand, looking at him.

"Armand," I began, not sure how to say this, and then realizing that it didn't matter what words I used. "Maybe we could... we could travel together for a little while..." My voice trailed off.

Shock, surprise, consternation displayed on his face, Armand stood motionless, not moving a single muscle, not breathing. I sighed; I should have known that it was not the right question to ask. Though I had seen the idea in his mind, it had only been that, an idea. And now I had mouthed it, spoken it aloud and ruined everything.

Armand was still staring at me, the way I was staring at him; but was that a little smile on his lips? Was he mocking me, or could it really be that he was not offended by what had been said? Slowly, he reached out, taking my hand in his, his eyes locked to my face.

"Yes," he said. "I believe we could."


End file.
